


Southern Hospitality

by ChloeWinchester



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Chair Sex, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, First Time, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23460400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester/pseuds/ChloeWinchester
Summary: After his antics Ransom needs to be taught a lesson, and there's only one man equipped to handle this unruly and ill-mannered young man.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Ransom Drysdale
Comments: 15
Kudos: 135





	Southern Hospitality

“... Shit.” 

Trooper Wagner and Lieutenant Elliott dragged Ransom off of Marta, wrenching his arms behind his back and clicking handcuffs into place. He only scowled and glared, done with his own theatrics and games. He’d lost. His whole family had lost too and this nothing little girl was now in possession of it all. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. 

Marta stared at the ceiling, her throat stinging from her vomit, eyes filled with tears and blurring the ornate molding above. Her chest stung from where the false blade had struck her under Ransom’s force, and the handle of it was still cold in her palm. She felt numb everywhere else. Sick, maybe, her whole self ringing with every bit of this overwhelming shit the Thrombeys put her through. And that included Harlan. 

Damn him for wanting to protect her so ferociously. Damn him for giving her everything he had, his whole life’s work and every thin red dime with it. Damn him for being the best friend she’d ever had and someone she loved and cherished dearly. Damn him for being a stubborn fool that could’ve listened for just a second and not slit his goddamn throat-- 

“Come on, come on now, you’re alright,” Benoit said gently, suddenly appearing over her, his bright eyes swimming along with everything else. He eased her up, holding her hand. “There, now, it’s alright. Up you get, I gotcha.” 

Marta swallowed, stood and wiped her face, steadied by Benoit’s hands on her shoulders. “I’m okay,” she nodded, smiling faintly. “I’m alright.” 

“Not for lack of trying,” he remarked, looking over his shoulder at Ransom. “You need to sit down, take a breath-- Trooper Wagner!” 

They were halfway out the door with Ransom, ready to get him into the car outside and properly book him before anything crazier than this happened, and paused at Blanc’s voice. 

“Sorry, if I may…” He squeezed Marta’s shoulder and went to Detective Elliott, speaking quietly. 

“I need a moment with Mr. Drysdale, alone,” he said, looking at Elliott squarely. 

“Alone?” He repeated, brow pinched. 

“Just for my own benefit, settle some loose ends on how in the hell he found and even thought to hire me. He is still, technically, my client,” he implored. Elliott didn’t budge. “Ten minutes. Ten minutes and I’ll give him right back to you, safe and sound. You and I both know my methods are a bit uncouth, but not unethical. We built that much trust here, haven’t we?” 

Elliott debated, knowing this was outside of procedure but so had everything else in this damn case. All of it felt like some fever dream, or one of those books Harlan wrote that Wagner wouldn’t stop talking to him about. He pursed his lips, sighing in concession. 

“Ten minutes. Not a second more, understand? We’ll be outside, just come get us.” He waved Wagner back in with his first two fingers. 

“You have my word.” Beniot went back to Marta, guiding her out behind the officers. “Marta, get yourself something warm to drink and sit down. Do some deep breathing, we don’t want you going into shock, now.” 

“What are you going to do?” She asked, looking around Blanc to where Ransom was standing, his hands still cuffed behind his back. 

“I’m gonna teach young Hugh here a little lesson in manners,” he explained. “Cause he nearly hurt my dear friend, and I cannot abide that conduct from my clients.” 

Marta frowned. “You-- You don’t have to do anything because of me. He needs to go to jail and if--” 

“Marta, Marta, listen,” he said, ushering her into the hallway. “Now, I promise, nothing illegal is going to happen here. Nothing is going to jeopardize whether or not he’s going to prison, I can promise you that. I need you to go take care of yourself, and no matter what you hear, no matter what gets said, do not open this door.” He spoke low and with a grave importance she’d heard before, and she didn’t care to hear it again. 

But, she did want Ransom to get his ass kicked. She straightened up, expression blank, eyes amused. “Ten minutes?” 

He smiled, nodding back to her. “Ten minutes.” The heavy door shut and locked, and Marta went down the hall to make some ridiculously expensive coffee for herself. 

~*~ 

“You gonna give me a lecture, Mark Twain?” Ransom smirked, glancing over his shoulder at him. Beniot didn’t answer. He stepped up behind him and slipped a handcuff key into one of the bracelets, letting it fall open as he walked around to face him. 

“Here,” he said, tossing him a handkerchief from his inside breast pocket. Ransom caught it, looked at him for a beat, then chuckled. 

“Thanks,” he said, wiping Marta’s puke from his face. 

“It’s more for my benefit than anything else. Not the most pleasant of conversations to have when one of you smells like a dive bar floor,” he remarked, shedding the suit jacket altogether. 

Ransom finished wiping his face, tossing the soiled cloth aside and watching Beniot. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” 

Blanc leaned against the closest pillar, nodding toward the desk nearby. “That paper there. Why don’t you give it a read for me?” 

Ransom’s brow quirked, his smug face twisted into a smirk as he let out a short laugh through his nose. With some grandeur he wandered to the desk, leaning over to look at the papers there. 

They weren’t anything. Receipts from the landscaping people from a few months before. 

“What the fuck is this supposed to be?” 

Just as the last word left his lips, the freed handcuff strand wrapped around the leg of the table and clenched shut. Ransom was still hunched over, bound to the exceedingly heavy desk, his back to Benoit, his prisoner. 

“Mr. Drysdale, you have made it abundantly clear that you understand my heritage and have never neglected to remind me of just where it is I come from. Suppose I should thank you for that,” 

Benoit smirked, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he spoke. “And as such, where I come from, we handle these matters a little differently. A more...hands on, approach, if you will. Now, I’m not saying I agree with corporal punishment, baseless brutality and the like, but once in awhile a squabble can only be settled with a fight.

“Does that mean we walk around clubbin’ every man that looks at us wrong? No! Of course not. No need to act like savages, no! I’d like to think we’re beyond that!” He laughed, clapping his hands together and staying just out of Ransom’s line of sight.

“As I said, however, every now and again, it wouldn’t hurt to give someone a reminder of what the other side of southern hospitality is.” He untucked his tie from his shirt, loosening the neck of it. 

“So that’s it? You’re gonna tie me down and beat me up?” Ransom spat. “Too scared of a fair fight, you hillbilly fuck?” 

Benoit chuckled, walking up behind him and pressing his body against his. “It ain’t a fight I want, Mr. Drysdale.” 

Ransom jerked, trying to twist around and shove Blanc away, but he was literally in no position to do so. Benoit shoved him flush against the desk, one hand on the back of his neck to keep him still. “What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“Once I realized you hired me, a lot of things began to make sense,” he said, speaking calmly into his ear. “Why you talk to me like you do, look at me that way, all that entitled babble you spout, the show you put on. Mr. Drysdale, you hired me because I’m a good detective. Because I get to the truth, and I think, for you, the truth is you want a bit more from me than to go along with this intricate frame job you cooked up.” 

“Yeah? Is that it?” He grunted, calmer now. 

Keeping the rest of his weight against him to pin him, Benoit’s free hand slid up Ransom’s throat and held it, pulling his face up closer to his. “I think you’re insufferable, entitled, pompous. An asshole, like Marta said. But I also think you’re waitin’ for someone to get at you for all those things. To bring you down a couple pegs, be at someone else’s mercy where you haven’t an ounce of control. I think you want someone to teach you a lesson, Mr. Drysdale. And I think that lovely burn in your cheeks is tellin’ me you want me to be your instructor.” 

Ransom was silent, the deep blue of his eyes locked onto the icy sky of his gaze. “So what are you gonna do about it?” He asked, glancing at Benoit’s mouth. 

“What everyone does, Ransom. I’m gonna give you exactly what you want.” 

With his fist clenched in his thick, dark hair, Benoit forced Ransom closer, crushing their mouths together. 

He let out a soft moan, his body jerking a little, as if he were still struggling to get away but it was a very, very weak effort. Benoit’s hand released his hair, sliding down his back and up inside his sweater. 

His hands were rough against his pampered skin, nails dragging along his stomach to elicit a hiss from the plump mouth against his. 

In a rough motion Blanc tore the sweater over Ransom's head, letting it stay hooked near his cuffed wrist so he could touch him properly. 

"Be careful," he grunted, pulling away from his mouth, eyes sparkling with a challenge. "That shirt cost more than whatever hick town you grew up in." 

Baited, Benoit kissed him again, hard enough to draw blood as their teeth gnashed together. Ransom wanted to submit, but he wasn't about to make it easy. He bit his mouth, pressing his hips against his hard enough to keep him pinned, and let his hands roam the acres of flesh he'd uncovered. 

His skin was softer than anything. covering hard, taut muscles that fluttered under Benoit's touch. Down his back to his hips, where he squeezed mercilessly to bruise him through the denim. 

He latched onto his throat when he began to protest, earning another rough moan that admittedly made Benoit shiver. 

Ransom took sharp breaths, Benoit's mouth sucking at his pulse as his hands caressed and scratched their way up his stomach and his chest. His face and neck burned from the other man's stubble, his skin so unused to any roughness that it reddened and welted easily beneath his nails. 

"Little rough, aren't you, Benny?" He grunted. "Marking me up like this, leaving proof all over me, it's sloppy--" His body hitched. Benoit had pinched one of his nipples, and Ransom buckled under the sensation, his breath leaving his lungs. 

"My, my, aren't we sensitive?" Blanc chuckled, slowly rolling the pert bud between his fingers, watching the blush in the apples of Ransom's cheeks spread down his neck and to his chest. "Are we inexperienced, Ransom?" 

"You fucking serious?" He gasped, smirking. "Look at me and tell me I didn't get every bit of puss--" 

Benoit tugged, both hands fondling and teasing his breasts now. "A simple yes or no will do," he warned. "So not inexperienced. Been awhile, then?"

Ransom swallowed, riddled with goosebumps, his dick so hard in his jeans he thought he might tear clean through them. His hesitation made Benoit tug and twist again, making him cry out. 

"Yes! Yes, it's...it's been awhile. Fuck, how the fuck are you doing that?" 

"You ever been fucked proper?" He purred, ignoring his question. "Like what I'm about to do to you now, that ever happen before?" 

"N-no," he grunted, pressing back against him, sweat building on his brow just from this. "No."

"Ever been with a man at all?" Benoit's voice brushed against his ear along with his lips, rumbling in his chest that was pressed so close Ransom could feel him speaking. 

"No," he said again, his hips rocking helplessly, just a little, just for a moment, grinding back against Benoit's equally hard cock. "Never have."

"I thought so." He released one of his nipples and slowly worked down his chest and his stomach. "I don't doubt you've at least thought about it before, haven't you? Wanted somethin' like this?"

The questions were getting harder to answer, making his blush deeper, his pride cracking. Benoit twisted again and he gasped. "Yes! Yes, all the time, fuck. Fuck you, God!" 

"Benoit will do," he teased. "You want a cock in you, don't you? Wanna choke and writhe and sweat and take whatever I give you and love every second. That right?"

"Yes." 

Benoit's hand hovered around his waistband, his touches too soft, too little, driving Ransom insane. He chuckled. "You want me to fuck you, don't you? You want me to tear this virgin ass of yours apart until you forget every name you got. Don't you?"

Ransom whined, fighting to keep control, to keep his dignity, to fight what was being done to him. But every word he said was true and every kiss, bite, pinch and caress he gave him was heaven. He'd never wanted to come so badly in his life. 

"Yes!" He answered, head back, eyes shut.

"Say it," Blanc ordered. "Say you want me to fuck you, Hugh."

Ransom swallowed. "I want you to fuck me." 

Benoit popped the button of his jeans open. "Beg me. Use your manners like a good boy."

"Oh, oh fuck," he panted, squirming, seeking more contact. "Please! Please, please fuck me, Benoit, I need your cock in me, please!" 

Benoit smirked. "There now, was that so hard?" He tore through the zipper and slid his hand inside Ransom's pants, fondling him through his underwear. 

"Oh, god, oh my god," Ransom whined, rocking into his hand and dissolving against him. 

Benoit stroked and teased him, his thumb rolling over the head of his cock enough to feel the precome wet the fabric. His other hand continued stimulating his nipples, mouth kissing and sucking his way down each side of his throat. He found his mouth again just as he shucked his jeans down to his thighs and reached past the waistband of his underwear. He touched bare skin and the boy nearly collapsed again. 

Panting, sweating properly, he rolled into the slow, steady strokes he received, his breaths sharp, cock throbbing in Benoit's capable hand. 

"Look at you. All a mess already," he chuckled. "We ain't even got to the good part, yet."

“Then hurry the fuck up!” He gasped, already helpless. 

Benoit grinned. “Oh, I’ll get there. I get ten whole minutes with you. Long time, ten minutes. Especially when I know the detective’s watch has stopped, and he ain’t gonna realize until at least ten minutes after his watch has stopped, which is about twenty minutes from now.” 

“Fuck,” Ransom gasped, either from the pace of Benoit’s hand or the realization of how long this torment was gonna be. 

“That’s the idea. Now, where were we?” He gripped his cock more firmly, dragging his underwear down as well. The cold air touched Ransom’s skin, the silk fabric of Benoit’s slacks against his bare ass, and he shivered, cock twitching. 

Benoit’s free hand caressed the revealed skin and gave him a sharp swat. 

“Ow! Fuck, don’t-!” 

He struck him again. “Hush, boy. You and I both know you like it.” 

“Why would I like it?!” He demanded, twisting his hips away from him. He was spanked anyway. 

“Because it’s utterly humiliating,” Benoit grinned, striking him a fourth time. “And you just love being this vulnerable, being punished, in front of and by someone like me. Someone _beneath_ you. With any luck, I’ll get you beneath me here real quick.” 

Benoit continued spanking the soft, plump flesh of his ass over and over again. And Ransom resisted, cursing and twisting away with each slap he received. His skin was hot and red, sensitive once Benoit paused to run a soothing palm over his cheeks. His thumb rolled over the head of his cock, a breathy moan mingled with the smallest whimper leaving Ransom at the sensation. 

“Ask me for another,” Benoit urged, dragging nails over the welts he’d left. 

“No,” he panted. “No, just fuck me-- Fuck!” 

Benoit shook out his hand, which stung from all this work. “I said, ask me for another. I can leave you like this, you know. And I might get into a bit of trouble, but your whole family is gonna see your bare, red ass and your dripping cock in the middle of this parlor. That what you want?” 

He took a shaky, rattling breath. Of course he loved it, he fucking ached for it, for more. His lashes fluttered and he leaned forward, perking his ass up, presenting it to him. “Please, spank me again,” he said softly. 

“Good boy.” 

Three more. Three more strikes accompanied Benoit's precise and calculated strokes to the cock throbbing in his hand, and Ransom came. Messily, prettily, perfectly, his broken and surprised moan sweet as music.

“Now that we got the easy one out of the way, you’ll last a bit longer. Focus more,” Benoit stated. Before he could try to formulate a sentence, Benoit’s fingers were in Ransom’s mouth, and he suckled them readily, leaning back against the man so he could see properly. 

He twisted his tongue around them, briefly opening his eyes to see the heated, primal hunger in Blanc’s face that was making him hard all over again. The smirk he had made him angry, made him want to challenge him again, defy and fight back just because. Just to see. 

Benoit withdrew his hand, as if sensing his plot and indelicately slipped his wet fingers between Ransom’s pink cheeks and teased his muscle. 

“Oh, shit,” he gasped, pressing his chest against the desk, trying to spread his legs as wide as he wanted, constricted by his clothes. He tried twisting out of them, getting one shoe off, freeing one leg that gave him enough to spread wider, inviting his hand to keep working, keep teasing and testing until one of his fingers got through. 

“So goddamn tight,” Benoit grunted. “Gonna take more than this to get you open.” The handcuff attached to the table suddenly popped open, the key retrieved from Benoit’s pocket, and he took the slightest step back. “Get the rest of your clothes off. Nice and easy, don’t do anything stupid.” 

Ransom let his sweater fall off his arm and onto the floor, and kicked away his pants, shoes, socks, now completely naked in front of him. And then he did something stupid. He tried to run. 

It took seconds for Benoit to pin him against the nearby pillar, fingers hooked back inside of him and twisting deeper, merciless. 

Ransom screamed, in frustration, pleasure and the mingled pain that made it so much better. Benoit laughed, triumphant, and locked his wrists behind his back. “Now, what did I say about doin’ something stupid?” He growled, forearm across the back of his neck to keep him pinned until he was completely still, finding the nerves inside the defiant little nuisance and rutting against them. 

Ransom shook, moaning, knees hardly stable enough to hold him up. “Had, had to give it a try, didn’t I? See if you could catch me again, old man,” he said, eyes glittering wickedly, daring him again. 

“It is gonna feel so good fucking you into oblivion,” he snarled.

Benoit dropped to one knee, spreading Ransom’s ass again. “Get your legs apart. I said get ‘em spread, boy!” He slapped his welted skin and he yelped, obeying, chest and face still resting against the pillar. 

The hot, searing wetness of Benoit’s tongue ghosted over his swollen hole. His fingers slowly retreated, leaving him empty, muscle fluttering as if begging to be filled again. Benoit smirked. “Such a lovely pink,” he hummed, giving his ass a bite that made him twitch. “Did you know you had such a pretty pink cunt, Ransom?” 

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, no,” he whined, writhing, trying to seek purchase in his mouth again.

“Just beggin’ to be fucked. Nothin’ so sweet should be wasted like this…” Benoit’s tongue licked him properly, his practiced and honeyed words making his silver tongue work like velvet, suckling and opening Ransom bit by bit. 

“God, oh my god… Fuck, fuck, please. Please, don’t stop, holy shit,” he shuddered. He cried out again, fingers carefully massaging his perineum, the other hand cruelly teasing his overly sensitive cock with long, achingly slow strokes.

Ransom rolled his hips, too eager and too stimulated all at once. The pleasure and mingled pain, doing this here, in broad daylight, with his entire family less than a hundred yards away made his head spin. 

He snapped out of the daze abruptly, the warmth of Benoit’s mouth gone and a demanding fist in his hair guiding him back. “Ow! What--” 

“I said, get on your knees, boy. You that far gone?” The detective chuckled, turning him around to face him. 

“Not, not a very polite way to ask me that,” he panted, his perfectly styled hair in his face, sweating, flushed, chest heaving. 

“Mm, cause I’m not askin’.” He shoved Ransom down, his own smirk growing as he glared up at him with a wicked playfulness in his eyes. “You look awful pretty like that, Mr. Drysdale,” he remarked, easing his suspenders from his shoulders and unzipping his trousers. 

Ransom chuckled. “Shut up and fuck my face, hick.” 

With another perfectly rough and stinging grip of his hair, he jerked Ransom forward, parting his soft, pink lips with his cock. He gave him little to no time to adjust to him, thrusting down his throat immediately. 

The relief was instant. His hot, wet mouth took the edge off the mounting pleasure he felt, giving him the strength to keep going, to keep playing this game with him. “Ah, careful, watch your teeth!” 

Ransom gagged, but he didn’t yield. In fact, if he had, he’d lose respect for him entirely and all of this would be for nothing. He needed to own him. 

“You best keep yourself open,” he warned, thumbing his jaw, watching his throat clench as he thrust his cock deeper and deeper, coaxing tears from the glittering eyes looking up at him. “Otherwise this is going to be unpleasant, and I don’t need you cryin’ on me.” 

Moaning, Ransom nodded and pulled away with a wet, obscene pop. Without breaking his gaze he shifted, spreading his legs a little more and twisting his bound wrists until he could press his fingers into himself. He shivered, loosing another desperate sound, flushed cock twitching. 

Benoit smiled. “Good boy.” 

Ransom took his cock into his mouth on his own accord, suckling like a man starved, forcing himself to the hilt though it made him gag and choke. He looked up at him again, tears streaking his red face, his body bound and bowed while he rocked against his own fingers to fuck himself on. 

Debauched, indecent, enticing, the look alone nearly sent Benoit hurtling over the edge. As beautiful as it would be to come down his waiting throat, to watch him swallow his come, to make him drink every last bit of it, he still had to fuck him senseless. A younger man might spring for both, but they hadn’t the time. 

He pulled away from him, gasping, feral, his pupils dilated against his bright, bright blue eyes. “Come here,” he grunted, pulling Ransom up to his feet and kissing him, one hand on his arm, the other on his throat to keep him still. A little taller, a lot stronger and radiating lust and angry heat, it was easy to get distracted by him. To get lost in the taste of him. 

Without warning Ransom shoved him with his shoulder, sending him falling backward into the large armchair that had been directly behind him. Immediately Benoit began to get back up, to scold him and hurry to stop him from trying to escape-- 

Ransom, however, climbed into his lap, crushing his mouth in another hard kiss and rutting helplessly against his groin. 

“Well, now, what’s this? So eager all of the sudden,” Benoit said, his voice low again, either hand on his naked hips, digging in and making more bruises to mark him as his own. 

He smirked. “In for a penny…” 

Benoit attacked his mouth, ripping the tie off his throat and putting it around Ransom’s to hold like a leash, keeping it wrapped around his hand while he sucked and bit at his mouth until he, again, tasted blood. 

“Fuck, get in me, get the fuck in me, _please,_ ” Ransom begged, rolling his forehead against his and panting. 

Looking up at him, catching his own breath, he guided his cock into Ransom’s waiting and ready cunt. He moaned and hissed, still leaning against him as he took him in. “A-ah, shit, shit you’re big,” he grunted. 

“Deep breaths,” Benoit said, almost gentle. “Take deep breaths, you’ll relax more.” Remarkably, he listened, looking right into his eyes as the tension left his body and he sank down over his cock. “There now. Good boy.” 

Benoit’s hips snapped up into him, eliciting a growling shout from the man above him. Their skin slapped together, loud and echoing in the large room along with the desperate and greedy moans that both of them made. 

Ransom kissed his throat, biting between moans, his hot breath ghosting along his neck and sending goosebumps along his skin in the process. “Open your shirt, please,” he gasped. “Lemme taste you, just a little-- Fuck!” 

“Now, look who’s learning some manners,” Benoit purred, tugging on his shirt so a few buttons popped free and revealed his bare chest. “You might even be a gentleman one of these days…” 

Cursing, the younger man kissed what he could reach, his hips rolling and grinding back on his cock like he was made to do it. His muscles rippled with each movement, so soft and smooth beneath the attention of his hands, the natural light from the window casting perfect shadows along his body. 

Not for the first time, Benoit thought to himself how pretty Ransom was when he wasn’t running his mouth. He gasped, a sudden pinch bringing him back to this. He bit him, sucked a bruise into his skin to mark him as well. 

“Now, you didn’t ask permission to do that…” He said, his tone warning, his eyes sparkling. Ransom returned his smirk. 

“You gonna punish me, then?” He challenged. 

“As much as your little virgin ass can take.” 

Clamping a hand over Ransom’s mouth he moved quick and hard, watching his cock leak thick, clear liquid when he found his nerves and rutted against them without mercy, without stopping even when it was clear it was too much. 

He writhed in his lap, shaking and arching his back. His unbridled moans and yelps of pleasure continued even after Benoit had moved his hand, foregoing dignity for the sake of more. He needed more, he needed to be fucked more and harder and quicker so he didn’t forget this, not ever. 

Benoit’s mouth sealed over one of his nipples, rocking into the tight, shaking body above him and listening to every sound he made like it was music he’d always longed to hear. Ransom buckled, so hard it hurt. 

“Please, please, come in me. Please, I need you to fill me, I need you to let me come again!” He whimpered. 

“Fuck, you greedy little thing,” he growled back. “You want it that bad? You want me to fill this pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Oh, fuck-- Yes! Yes, please…” He whined, practically sobbing when his raw ass was spanked again. 

“Say it,” he ordered, biting the pert bud of his nipple and relishing the cry that came with it. “You say it now, and I might oblige you.” 

“Mmn! Please, please f-fill my pussy! Please!” The humiliation dripped off of him like the honeysuckle sweat that coated his skin. Benoit grinned, the taste of him ripe on his tongue. 

“Good boy.” He thrust again, hard, unforgiving, making Ransom scream as he filled him with one last push. 

He bucked, coming all over himself and the detective with a trembling and pitiful whimper, slumping against him. He let him turn his chin, kissing him with a pliant tenderness he didn’t fight against. “Holy shit,” he breathed. 

Benoit chuckled, slipping his tie off his neck again. “C’mon now. Up you get. Get your clothes back on.” The cuffs clicked open again and Ransom stood. 

His legs were shaking, hot come dripping down his legs he didn’t bother to clean up as he tugged his jeans over his hips. Benoit righted himself as well, watching the boy with his own smug and satisfied air. 

“Alright,” he said once they were both dressed and Ransom had put his coat back on. “There is a very good chance justice will not be served to you appropriately, Mr. Drysdale.” 

Ransom listened, linking his wrists behind him so he could be cuffed again. 

“And if that is the case,” the cuffs cinched around each wrist once more, “then you’re at risk to come back here and harass and/or harm Marta in some way. I can’t have that. She’s a dear friend, now. No doubt once she discovers that our system is very broken and the rich hardly get their comeuppance, she’s going to want someone to keep a close eye on you.” 

Benoit came around to where Ransom could see him again. “Likely, she will call upon me and my services, of which I will refuse payment for, to make sure you stay the hell away from her. And you’re going to.” 

Ransom scoffed, more curious than defiant. “Why’s that?” 

“I’m glad you asked! You have a lifestyle, Mr. Drysdale, one I assume you’d like to keep. 'With what funds?' you may ask. 'Am I supposed to degrade myself by getting a _job?'_ ", he chuckled. "Well, frankly, Hugh, without any discernible skills you ain’t qualified to sack groceries!"

Ransom scowled, but that glint of something bearing fondness still lingered. His smile grew. 

"Which brings me to my point. You wanna keep your lifestyle, keep your cars, your clothes and whatever the hell else you’ve made your vice? Then you’re gonna come and see me on a regular basis. On your own and when I beckon you. In exchange, I’ll make sure you keep up this level of comfort you're accustomed to." He reached out, righting the collar on his coat. 

"Marta will be safe and focused, living out her days beyond her wildest dreams here, and you’ll have somethin’ to spend all this free time on. Clear?” 

He was quiet for a moment, looking Benoit up and down as he absorbed what he was saying. “You want me to be your whore?” He demanded. 

Benoit chuckled. “In a sense, I suppose. The alternative is much worse. There ain’t a judge around that don’t owe me a favor, understand, and I’ve damn near been to every wedding, christening and bar mitzvah the District Attorneys in this state have had. Call that blackmail if you will, but trust me, prison won’t do you any good, boy.” 

“Why would I say yes to being your… toy?” 

Again he smiled. “Well, because,” he said, standing so close they were touching again, his lips just a breath away from him. He looked at him with that piercing, consuming gaze his sharp eyes were capable of. “The very idea of it makes you harder than a diamond in the Arctic.” 

Slowly, Ransom smiled back. 

“I guess having a sugar daddy isn’t the worst thing.” 

“I prefer anonymous benefactor, but whatever you prefer,” he said, letting their lips brush as he spoke but refusing to kiss him. “Now you walk out to that police car, fucked out of your mind with my come still slipping out of you and behave. Understand?” 

"Yeah, I got it." He nodded, leaning in to kiss him himself but found no purchase. At the same time the door clicked open and Benoit was leaning against the desk he’d cuffed him to, arms folded importantly and somehow having moved like smoke to get there. 

“My watch stopped,” Detective Elliott huffed, clearly having hurried to get there. 

“Oh, I am sorry, detective, I plum lost track of time. Forgive me. He’s all yours now,” he assured, looking as sheepish as he could manage. 

“Thanks for the advice, Blanc,” Ransom snapped. “Next time I need a shit P.I. I’ll make sure to call you. It’s 1-800-Yee-Haw, yeah?” 

Benoit rolled his eyes and Trooper Wagner pulled him along. He smirked at Ransom’s back, catching the wink he shot him before he was taken around the corner and out of sight. 

He sighed, shaking his head and straightening up, plucking his suit jacket off the chair where he’d left it. 

“So, ten minutes.” He looked up at Marta, who was standing in the doorway with a blanket around her shoulders and a coffee mug between her hands. 

“Yes, I am sorry,” he assured. “Wasn’t paying attention and the detective’s watch stopped.” 

“Mm,” she nodded. “I almost came to get you, but you told me not to open the door. And, I did hear some troubling things…” 

She watched him, brow pinched, thinking, and he looked right back at her, waiting for her to speak. “But I guess you taught him a lesson. Thank you.” 

He smiled, relieved, and nodded. “Of course, Miss Cabrera,” he said politely, crossing the room to join her. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you safe and sane through this whole ordeal, if you wish me to.” He shut the heavy doors and followed her into the hall, walking with her.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “Oh, I do have a question.” 

“Ask away, dear girl.” 

She stopped, turning to look at him. “Did you used to be a dentist?” 

He frowned. “A-- No, why?” 

She smiled a little. “Well, you asked Ransom to be careful with his teeth. I thought that might be why.” 

She shrugged, sipping her coffee with an amused look in her eyes and turned to go up to the balcony, leaving him to balk and laugh on his own.


End file.
